Superstar

by Southwell, T C

  She raised her chin. "It's Miss York."

  "Yeah. Did you enjoy your trip?" He sniggered.

  Mark appeared to be controlling himself with an effort. "Sit down."

  Birdie sprawled in a chair and flung back his braids to glare at Mark. "So, Mr Big Man Superstar Lord, where's the cheque?"

  "There's no cheque." Mark walked around the desk to stand in front of Birdie, forcing him to look up, which put him at a disadvantage.

  Birdie growled, "I distinctly told that wimp to have a cheque for me." He looked at Simon, who gulped his drink.

  "There's no cheque," Mark repeated.

  Birdie jumped up. "I told you, I want two million -"

  "And I told you to sit down." Mark gave him a push in the chest that sent him crashing back into the chair. "I didn't have you come here so that I could give you money. I had you come here to tell you that you're not getting anything."

  Birdie glared up at him. "I'll tell the story to the press, and they'll crucify you."

  Mark folded his arms, leant against the desk and shook his head. "No they won't. Without the pictures it's all hearsay, and I'll sue you for slander if you open your mouth. You're lucky if Miss York doesn't press charges for that drug you slipped into her drink. That's passing an illegal substance. What's more, I could have the police drop by sometime and check your supplies for you. Now wouldn't that make great headlines?"

  Carrin found her mouth dry at Mark's soft, menacing tone and the complete confidence with which he spoke. Birdie was a tough character, however.

  He snarled, "I could have my goons arrange a little accident for one of your friends here, or even you. How'd you like that, huh?"

  Mark turned and pressed a button on the desk. After a moment, Birdie's voice repeated the words from concealed speakers behind them. The singer made an ugly sound.

  "I'll get more photos of the bitch."

  Mark shook his head. "I doubt it, but if you do, you'll only hurt her. I won't be dragged down too, even if it costs me."

  "I want my money, you bastard, and I'm going to get it!" He stood up, glaring at Mark. "You think you're such a big shot, but you're not. I'll make you sorry."

  Mark murmured, "If you try anything, I'll make sure no record company will ever touch you again. I can ruin you a lot easier than you can me."

  Birdie snarled and headed for the door. "You'll be sorry, you bastard!"

  He slammed it behind him as Mark muttered, "Don't let the door hit you on the butt on the way out."

  Carrin let out the breath that she discovered she had been holding in a huge sigh. Simon drained his glass and poured another drink. Mark lit a cheroot.

  "Well, that was entertaining, wasn't it?"

  Simon looked haggard. "What if he causes trouble, like he threatened?"

  "That's all hot air. He won't do a thing, because he knows that what I've said is true. Without the photos, he can't prove the story isn't slander, and no magazine will touch it. He can't do any of us any harm now because we have his threat on tape. What can he do? If Janice is stupid enough to go back to his place, I'll simply have to have her fired, recast and re-shoot. Harold will agree."

  "That'll put you way over budget," Simon pointed out.

  "I know, but she won't go back, not after what I had to say about it."

  Carrin finished her drink and sighed. "Well, all our troubles are over, then. Let's go out to the patio, it's stuffy in here."

  Mark opened the doors, and they walked out into the sunshine. Carrin headed for the patio furniture and settled under the umbrella that shaded it. A splashing came from the pool, and the make-up girl emerged, clad in a bikini. She was pretty in a cute, barbidoll way, with pale blonde hair, blue eyes and a lithe, tanned body. Simon grinned at her, and Carrin saw new possibilities there too. Mark held out a towel for her, and she dried her face with it.

  "Patsy, I'd like you to meet Carrin and Simon. Two friends of mine."

  Patsy grinned and shook hands all around, then turned adoring eyes on Mark. "I think we should offer them a drink, don't you, Mark?"

  He nodded. Carrin smiled at the girl, liking her already. She was playing the little hostess, which was guaranteed to rub Mark up the wrong way. At Mark's gesture, a maid appeared with a selection of soft drinks, and they all took one. Mark and Simon sat, and Patsy pulled her chair close to Mark's. Carrin sat back to watch the drama unfold. Patsy started to prattle, and Simon joined in. Mark tried to look interested, but was clearly bored. Patsy clung to his arm, dripped on his jacket, and all but climbed into his lap. Whenever Patsy seemed to be flagging, Carrin asked a trivial question about the latest scandals, which set the girl off again with renewed enthusiasm.

  Once Mark rolled his eyes, but otherwise he seemed to have the patience of a saint. Rita served lunch, and Patsy picked at hers, claiming to be on a diet. Carrin asked which one, and Patsy was off again, clearly on a pet subject. Even Simon was starting to look a little vague and glassy-eyed. Eventually it was he who rescued Mark, albeit unintentionally, by asking to speak to him privately. Mark agreed with alacrity, and they excused themselves, effectively dumping Patsy on Carrin. However, Carrin was not without a plan for this contingency too.

  As soon as the men left, she leant forward and said, "Patsy, you're so lucky to catch a famous actor like Mark Lord. Are you two planning on tying the knot?"

  Patsy looked uncertain. "Well, we only met yesterday." She giggled. "Do you really think I've caught him?"

  "I think he's besotted with you. The way he looks at you, and the way he smiles, can't you see it?"

  "Well, now that you mention it..."

  "I've known Mark for a while, and I think you're just the kind of girl he needs."

  Patsy grinned. "Really? He seems a bit distant sometimes."

  "Definitely. You're so cheerful. He needs to laugh more, he's far too serious. I think you'll do wonders for him."

  Patsy squirmed. "Oh, I still can't believe my luck! I was amazed when he started talking to me yesterday. I mean, me, a make-up girl, with Mark Lord. It's a dream come true!"

  "Of course it is."

  Carrin pitied the girl, knowing exactly how it felt to be in love with Mark. She wanted to tell Patsy to go away, go home, and get as far away as she could before she got hurt. Patsy would never give up the chance, however, no matter how slight, of landing a superstar like Mark Lord. Unlike herself, who had more sense than to entertain such ridiculous notions. Hopefully Patsy would not fall past the infatuation stage, and bounce back quickly. She spotted Mark and Simon returning. Mark scowled, but his expression changed to a neutral one when he drew nearer.

  Carrin decided that she had done enough and got up. "Excuse me, Patsy, but I really must be going. I have to do some shopping this afternoon and besides, I'm sure you two want to be alone."

  Patsy giggled and nodded, gazing at Mark with her heart in her eyes. Carrin left her at the table and intercepted the two men.

  "Simon, let's go, I have some things to do today. You can drop me off and come back if you like, but I have to go."

  Mark smiled, looking vaguely triumphant. He probably thought that he was getting to her, and she could not stand to see them together, but he was wrong. Now that she knew it was a ploy, she did not care. She was careful not to overdo her act, and did not cling to Simon or make any comments about the happy couple. Keep it simple.

  Simon was amenable, and took his leave of Mark. In the limousine, he asked, "What do you have to do this afternoon?"

  "Buy a dress. We're going out tonight, remember?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  "Try and sound a little enthusiastic."

  "You're just trying to make Mark jealous."

  She laughed. "No I'm not. I'm glad he's found someone nice, and Patsy is a lovely girl. I just feel like going out and having some fun, don't you? I've been cooped up in a trailer in the desert for a week."

  Carrin wished that she could take Simon into her confidence, but he was Mark's best friend, and would undoub
tedly tell him. In truth, she was not trying to make Mark jealous, for in order for him to get jealous, he would have to feel something for her, wouldn't he? No, she was just showing him that his little affair meant nothing to her. If she was going to stay his friend, he must never find out how she really felt.

  Simon dropped her off at her hotel and went home, after agreeing to pick her up at seven. Carrin caught a taxi and spent the afternoon in a glorious shopping spree. She bought several lovely dresses and some more make up, then went back to the hotel to bath and get ready. She donned a sparkling silver sequined dress and high heels, a silver necklace and earrings to match. In front of the mirror, she did her best to imitate Anne's professional make up, and was well pleased with the results. She didn't look like Patricia Merril, but she did look quite glamorous.

  When Simon arrived to pick her up, he whistled. "Wow, you look great."

  "Thanks." She smiled and slipped her arm through his as they exited the hotel.

  In the car, she asked, "Where are we going?"

  "A little club I know, very exclusive."

  Very dark too, no doubt, Carrin thought. That would not do. As they drove through the city, she kept her eyes peeled, and soon spotted what she was looking for. A brightly lighted club, thronging with people, fans and. best of all, paparazzi. She prodded Simon.

  "Let's go there."

  His face fell. "Oh, no, that's a place where small time celebrities go, and 'B' list actors. It's crawling with press."

  "It looks like fun. Come on, don't be a spoilsport."

  Simon stared at her in despair, and she leant forward to tap the glass that separated them from the driver.

  "Driver, pull up there." She pointed to the club.

  Simon groaned as the long maroon limousine slid into the brightly lit area in front of the club. A liveried flunky opened the door, and Carrin slid out, pulling him after her. The paparazzi went wild at the sight of Simon Grey, and a blinding barrage dazzled Carrin as she clung to his arm. Simon took it in his stride, smiling and waving, stopping to sign a few autographs. Inside the club, Carrin gazed around at the plush, tasteful decor. Gloomy niches hid intimate couples, and tables were dotted around a dance floor. People hailed Simon, and they joined a group of young actors whom he knew.

  The evening passed pleasantly. Carrin danced with Simon and a good many other men, enjoyed a delicious supper and tried a variety of new drinks. Simon got a bit drunk and a little loud, but when she asked him to take her home, he complied. The indefatigable paparazzi snapped their picture as they left, and then they were whispering back to the hotel in Simon's limousine. She gave him a peck on the cheek out of sheer gratitude when she said goodnight, and went into the hotel.

  Carrin spent the weekend alone. She did some shopping, visited a park and fed the ducks, saw a few movies and worked on the script. She wondered how Mark was getting on with Patsy, and the knowledge that her revenge would be sweet comforted her.

  On Monday she drove back to the location with Warren, who phoned and asked her if she wanted a lift. She greeted Mark cheerfully, noticing that he looked a little frayed around the edges. For two days, she ignored his flirting with Patsy and treated him with polite friendliness.

  On Wednesday, the muck hit the fan. She was in the trailer, working on some dialogue changes when the door was ripped open, and Mark stormed in. Carrin braced herself. The make-up girl and stuntwoman who were relaxing on the sofa fled. Mark slammed a glossy magazine down on her script so hard some pages blew off the table. Carrin did not blink.

  "You spent a slutty weekend with Simon!"

  Carrin glanced down at the photo on the open page of the magazine. It was a good one of her and Simon at the door of the club. The caption read, 'Simon Grey, out on the town with Carrin York, screenwriter for Mark Lord's new film, Deadly Games.' She raised her eyes to meet Mark's furious ones.

  "We went out on Friday, that's all."

  Mark placed his hands on the table and leant closer. "Didn't I warn you about him? What the hell are you playing at? You'll go out with him but not me?"

  "We went out as friends. He wasn't looking for a bed-warmer."

  He growled, "Simon's always looking for a bed-warmer."

  "No, he respects me. We're friends."

  "Oh, now you're friends? Just last week he was only an acquaintance!"

  She shrugged. "Well that's how it works, acquaintances become friends."

  "And then lovers."

  "Not necessarily."

  "Why are you doing this to me?"

  Carrin shook her head. "I'm not doing anything to you. I wanted to go out, that's all. Since when is that a crime?"

  "Why Simon?"

  "He's a friend, and I know he's okay. He's not going to get drunk and stupid like Tony."

  He stabbed the magazine with a finger. "Why that club, where the paparazzi hang around? You wanted me to see this, didn't you? You wanted to make me angry, jealous!"

  She stood up. "I liked the look of the place, as if it's any of your business, and you're not jealous, you're just having an ego attack because you think Simon will succeed where you failed."

  Mark slammed his fists down on the table, making her jump. He looked dangerously furious. "Dammit, Carrin! Don't tell me I'm not jealous. I know what I feel!"

  "It's a good act. When I turned you down, you ran off and sweet-talked Patsy, so don't tell me you feel anything for me, because it's a lie."

  With a roar, Mark swept everything off the table and smashed it aside. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back against the wall. "If Simon lays a hand on you, I'll kill him! You're playing a dangerous game with me!"

  His sudden violence frightened her. Helen's bruised face sprang unbidden into her mind, and she recoiled. Defiance came to her rescue. "I'm not playing a game. I can go out with whomever I like, whenever I want. You found a bed warmer, and I went out with Simon, that's all there is to it."

  He banged his fist on the wall beside her head, and she flinched. "What does it take to get through to you?" he yelled. "What the hell do I have to do?"

  "Seducing a make-up girl doesn't make me think any better of you."

  "I didn't seduce her! I wanted to make you feel something, dammit! Do you think I would stoop so low?"

  Carrin wished that he was not so close, almost pressing her against the wall, and she had no retreat. His anger made her regret the whole stupid idea that had caused this. She had not expected such a violent reaction.

  Desperate to make him leave her alone, she shouted, "I know exactly how low you'll go! I've seen what you're capable of! Seducing a young girl is nothing compared to what you've done before."

  He recoiled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  Carrin instantly regretted telling him anything. Of course he would only deny it. "Forget it. Just leave me alone."

  "No! Tell me what it is you think I've done."

  "No."

  "My god, don't I at least deserve an explanation?"

  "What's the point? You'd only deny it." She pushed him away, and to her surprise, he stepped back. As she tried to make her escape, Mark grabbed her wrist, and she turned to yell, "Let me go!"

  "No." With a swift jerk, he pulled her closer and gripped her upper arms. "Tell me the truth. Tell me why you think I'm such a bastard."

  She glared up at him, resenting the shivers that his closeness sent through her, hating the power that he wielded, with such unfeeling ruthlessness, to get what he wanted. He must know the effect he had. He must have used it many times, on many women. The resolve not to give in to his devastating magnetism set as hard as stone within her.

  Her words dropped like ice into the tense silence. "Because of what you did to Helen."

  "Helen!" Mark released her and stepped back, looking stunned. He ran a hand through his glossy hair, rumpling it. "Because I fired her?"

  His innocent act enraged her. He was so damned convincing! Then again, she had seen him acting a part in her movie, so she knew just how
brilliant he was. Certainly an actor who had won two Oscars could fake any emotion with total reality, enough to fool the most sceptical of onlookers. She knew it was an act, however, he did not fool her.

  "Don't put on an innocent act," she snarled. "Who the hell do you think you're trying to fool?"

  He stared at her, and she searched his eyes for some sign of his duplicity, but there was nothing but angry confusion in them. Boy, he was good!

  He shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about. I fired Helen for wiping out your file in a fit of jealousy. She would only have made more trouble. What did she tell you I did to her?"

  "Oh, no. You're not going to wriggle out of it by telling me that she was lying. She showed me. I saw what you did. I saw the bruises, the cuts!" Her voice rose. "You know what they say about seeing is believing? My eyes didn't deceive me!"

  Mark turned away, leaning on the table that he had knocked aside earlier. Trying to hide his guilt, she thought angrily. Even he wasn't good enough to show no emotion when the truth was flung in his face. She folded her arms and waited for the next great acting performance, for which he was undoubtedly preparing himself. She was not disappointed. He straightened and ran a hand through his hair again, looking haggard. Lines of strain bracketed his mouth, and his eyes were as hard as chips of ice.

  "It wouldn't do any good to tell you that you were tricked, would it? It wouldn't help for me to deny it, because that's exactly what you're expecting, isn't it? I could tell you a few choice stories about Helen, but you wouldn't believe them either. That's what this is all about. That's what your little secret has been all along, isn't it? You think I'm some kind of monster. No wonder you haven't wanted any more than friendship. In fact, I'm surprised you even allowed that. Or was that because of the film?"

  Carrin glared at him, then clapped. "Oh, well done. An excellent performance. You should get another Oscar for it, if it was on film." She shook her head. "Why do you bother?"

  He frowned. "It's a pity you can't tell the difference between acting and reality, Carrin."

  "With you, it's very hard."

  "How am I going to convince you that I never harmed Helen, or any other woman for that matter? Must I write it in blood? Swear on a stack of bibles? How? Tell me, and I'll do it."